


Flesh and Bone

by talliabram



Series: Wounded Healer [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Healer Stiles, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mates, i really suck at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:56:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talliabram/pseuds/talliabram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is shot by one of the assassins and the only person who can save him is Stiles. Unfortunately, the only solution Stiles can find may end up killing them both. </p>
<p>My body's weak<br/>I feel my heart giving up on me<br/>I'm worried it might just be<br/>My body's weak<br/>Feel my lungs giving up on me<br/>I'm worried it might just be<br/>Something my soul needs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> I really like Malia, but I like Sterek more and I didn't want Stiles to be cheating on her so... for the sake of this fic she doesn't exist. Stiles developed healing powers and is being trained by Deaton. The medical stuff is probably very wrong, though I did do some research. 
> 
> Thanks so much to Maya for beta reading. You can find her on tumblr and AO3 as: Superwholock22. I don't think there are any trigger-inducing things here (other than what is listed in the tags), but if you disagree just let me know and I will add them ASAP.
> 
> Song title and quote come from the song Flesh and Bone by Keaton Henson

It was decided that running to the mountains would be the safest place for them. Beyond that, the exact location was chosen by having Scott close his eyes and stick a pin in a list of possible campsites –that way no one could use any form of logic to determine their location. Derek had initially scoffed at Stiles’ idea, but ultimately agreed that it made sense. The group consisted of Stiles, Lydia, Derek, and Scott –each one on the Deadpool for an unholy amount of money. Kira had elected to stay behind in order to keep guard over her mother. 

Despite their best efforts, they knew it was still only a matter of time before they were found. Stiles had put up wards around the campsite that would alert him to the presence of an intruder while it was Derek’s turn to keep physical watch as an added precaution. Because of this, Stiles was the first one to wake up just before everything went to shit. He kicked Scott as hard as he could and the Alpha jumped to action.

Stiles pointed in the direction the alert had come from just as an earth-shattering howl tore through the camp. The sound could only come from Derek and before he knew it, Stiles was sprinting at full tilt behind Scott –despite Lydia screaming for him to stop and to not throw himself into danger.

By the time Stiles reached the clearing, Scott had already taken care of the assassin. The man looked to be around forty, nothing supernatural about him, and wielded a blade as well as a gun complete with silencer. To Stiles’ surprise, the man was dead. His head was barely attached to his neck and his eyes stared unseeing into the distance.

“You killed him.” Stiles said, too in shock to notice anything else.

“I couldn’t stop… not once I saw… Oh god Stiles, it’s really bad. I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.” And that’s when Stiles realized what was missing –Derek. He had assumed Derek’s howl had been a warning to the others… not a response to his own situation. But now Stiles understood with perfect clarity, as his eyes fell on the bloody body of his sometimes-friend, sometimes-enemy, and sometimes-something-else-entirely.

Derek’s previously immaculate white shirt was now red and torn, looking more like a costume for a haunted house than anything that could legitimately happen in the real world. Stiles fell to the ground beside him, one shaking hand going to Derek’s neck to feel for a pulse, the other attempting to slow the bleeding from one of the bullet holes. Scott looked at his friend worriedly, waiting for him to deliver the verdict –if Derek did have a heartbeat, it was too faint for even Scott’s werewolf hearing to pick up.

 “It’s there. Barely… I mean seriously barely… but it’s something.” Stiles said, only the slightest bit of relief coloring his tone.

“Ok, let’s get him back to camp where the emergency supplies are and you can work your mojo or whatever.”

Stiles nodded at his friend, not trusting his voice to come out at a reasonable octave if he were to use it. As gently as he could, Scott scooped up the older man –eliciting a small groan- and ran as quickly as he could back to where Lydia was already waiting with a first aid kit, Stiles hot on his heels. As Scott carefully laid Derek on a sleeping bag, Lydia turned to Stiles for direction.

“Ok Stiles, what do you need us to do?” But Stiles could barely hear her over the growing panic that was taking over his brain. His breath was coming out in short bursts as he desperately tried to get a hold of himself. “Stiles!” Lydia shrieked, still barely managing to be a blimp on Stiles’ radar. It wasn’t until her hand made a heavy connection with his face that he was able to turn towards her and respond.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. There are two different kinds of poison going through his system and we are miles away from anywhere we might find a cure and that’s just if –big ‘if’, just so we’re clear- Deaton has the right strains of wolfsbane in his office. There aren’t any bullets left in the gun –I already checked- and the poison from the blade is already completely gone, gone into Derek by the way. So no, I don’t know what to do!” His voice was rising steadily until he was practically screaming at Lydia, tears of desperation starting to run down his face.

“Ok Stiles, focus. There has to be another way, but before any of that, what do we do first?” Lydia knew the answer to her own question, just as she knew that Stiles needed to answer it in order to clear his head and begin working through the problem.

“I don’t –I don’t know…” Stiles said again, his breathing getting shallower.

“Yes you do, Stiles. Just take a deep breath and think.” Lydia had no idea how she managed that level of calm, but was glad she did. Stiles followed her direction and took a deep breath, then another.

“We-we stop the bleeding. We need to put pressure on the wounds. He can’t heal around the poison, so he’ll die from blood loss before he dies from the wolfsbane.” Once he knew the first part, the rest came automatically -the years of training overtaking the panic and moving him to action. “Lydia, grab the towels from the med kit. Scott, get Derek’s shirt off, I need to get a better look at what we’re dealing with.”

It was a testament to the severity of the situation that Scott didn’t make a crack at Stiles asking him to remove Derek’s shirt, something Stiles had jokingly asked his friend for on more than one occasion. Stiles forced himself to stay calm as he took in the mess of injury that was Derek Hale. There were two bullet wounds on the upper part of his chest, dangerously close to his heart but not quite there. There was another in the lower right of his abdomen, and one more in his right thigh. The worst appeared to be the long gash that seemed to go perfectly from the middle-right of his torso to the bottom left, ending just above his leg.

“Holy shit.” Scott said in a shocked whisper.

“Lydia, where are those towels?” Stiles voice came out in a decidedly unmanly tone, though no one would dare call him on it.

“Here, I grabbed everything we had. I got a few of the towels we brought for bathing too… I just didn’t think the med kit was going to cover it.”

“You thought correctly.” Stiles agreed grimly, taking some of the towels and beginning to press down on the gash. The white cloth turned red almost instantly and for a brief moment Stiles thought he was going to be sick. “Ok Scott, you deal with the bullets on the right, Lydia you take the ones on the left.”

Rather than answer verbally, the other two responded by grabbing their own towels and moving to their assigned positions. Lydia chewed her lip nervously while Scott gnashed his teeth together. To the casual observer, Stiles may have appeared the calmest of the three –though in reality that was precisely the opposite. His face was a mask of pure concentration as he desperately tried to remember every healing spell he’d ever learned and their exact functions. His concentration was short-lived as Derek began to writhe beneath their ministrations.

At first it was a subtle twitching and Stiles hoped that it would subside, sparing Derek from having to be conscious through the pain. Of course, luck was rarely on their side and within moments Derek’s claws extended and he began to pull away from their hands with real force. For a moment, Stiles was grateful that Derek didn’t have much strength –otherwise there would have been no way of stopping him from clawing out at his friends, two of whom were without werewolf healing abilities.

“Hey Derek, easy buddy. It’s ok, you’re going to be ok. It’s just us. We can’t help you if you keep moving like that, so you just need to lie still and let us take care of you. I know it’s not in your nature, but just this once you need to trust me. I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you, you just need to calm down. That’s it, easy.” Stiles kept up the endless cycle of similar words, fairly certain that Derek couldn’t really understand what he was saying, but hoping that something in Derek would recognize his voice and realize that he was safe. It took a few minutes, but eventually Derek calmed down and stilled beneath their pressing hands.

“Stiles?” he groaned, eyes still closed and voice coming out as barely more than a croak.

“Yeah buddy, I’m right here. I’m going to take care of you.”

“Hurts.” He wheezed out.

“I know it does, but we need to keep pressure on the wounds.” Stiles voice broke over the word “wounds” and he hoped desperately that Derek was too out of it to realize how scared Stiles really was. “We want to keep the blood _in_ your body… it’s usually better there.”  Stiles joked weakly.

Derek nodded and despite his face clearly being pinched in pain, he was perfectly still. A moment later his face relaxed and Stiles looked over to see that Scott’s arms now had black veins sticking out from them. It only took a few seconds from there for Derek to drift back into unconsciousness.

“Stiles… I hate to say this…” Lydia began, “But he won’t be able to last much longer like this. The poison is going to spread before we get him back to Deaton’s, and even if it doesn’t, the blood is still coming pretty fast and I seriously doubt it’s going to clot with the poison still there.” Stiles nodded, knowing she was right, but unsure of what to do about it.

“Let’s think about this logically… the poison is what needs to be dealt with. Either it kills him, or it stops him from healing… which kills him. We can’t get the poison out and cutting off the areas affected by the poison is also not an option.”

Lydia remained quiet, knowing that Stiles was really talking to himself in the hopes of jogging a memory or coming across a solution.

“We need to make the poison not poisonous!” He shouted excitedly, clarity suddenly appearing on his face.

“Stiles… you’re not making sense.” Scott said, earning him an annoyed glare from Lydia –though she had to admit, she wasn’t following either.

“Werewolves are affected by Wolfsbane… but humans aren’t!” Scott shot him a skeptical look.

“I really don’t think Derek will thank you for turning him into a human… even if it did save his life. And anyway, is there even a spell for that?”

“No, and if there was I doubt it would work on him seeing as he’s a born wolf. That’s not the point. Me. I am talking about me. I am human… well, at least not wolf.”

“For the love of god Stiles, please, out with it already.” Lydia said, her calm exterior finally cracking.

“I can do a spell for transference.” Stiles said, his face breaking into a grin.

“Stiles… You may be able to heal from the wolfsbane, but you’re still human… you won’t survive four bullet wounds and a slash across the chest.”

“Not all at once. But what if I did it little by little? I could take just enough to keep the poison in Derek at bay. Plus, I can do something to make myself heal faster so that I can take more… just as much as it takes to get him stable enough to get to Deaton, I promise.”

“Slow down, I’m still confused… what are you doing?” Scott asked in the tone of someone clearly getting tired of being the last one to catch on to everything.

“Transference. I am going to create a link between Derek and me so that we can share his injuries. Technically I could take them completely, but that would just end in me dying and Derek becoming even poutier and more self-loathing than he already is, and I just don’t think the world is ready for that. Anyway, however much of the injuries I take is how much Derek heals. Once I have the injuries, I can heal myself without being bothered by the wolfsbane.” Stiles looked at his friends, proud of himself and hoping to see equal pride in their eyes –instead he saw uncertainty and fear.

“I dunno, dude. That sounds dangerous. Like the could-go-wrong-very-easily-and-with-serious-repercussions kind of dangerous. Maybe we should keep thinking.”

“WE DON’T HAVE TIME!!!” Stiles screeched, any semblance of control shattering.

“Ok Stiles, calm down. Let’s just think this through for a second.” Lydia said, holding her hands out as though she were trying to calm a feral animal. “What are the possible scenarios if this doesn’t go to plan, that way we can at least be prepared for anything.”

“There isn’t enough time to talk through every little detail! Derek is dying! He’s dying!!! Who cares if it’s dangerous?” His screaming turned to near-sobbing as he continued, “If he dies, what’s the point in me being alive anyway? You may as well kill me too… I need him to live.”

“Don’t say that, not to me.” Scott said, his voice a low growl. “What am I supposed to do if you die? I already lost Allison, and I’m still standing, and do you know why? Because every day that I don’t feel like being alive, I remember what you said to me at that motel, about being my brother, and about us going together… I stay for you, so don’t you dare fucking leave me.”

Stiles' jaw clenched and unclenched, tears filling his eyes as he first took in the face of his best friend and then the face of the man he would do anything to save. It took all his willpower, but Stiles managed to take a few deep breaths and mentally organize a short list of possible negative outcomes.

“He won’t be able to heal as fast.” Stiles said slowly, forcing his brain back to the long nights of reading and endless pages of highlighting. “I can’t get any of his wolf stuff because you have to be bitten in order to be turned, but he’s half human so he’ll probably get some of my human stuff for a while. It might make it easier for his body to push the poison out of his system, but not much –he’ll still mostly be wolf. Healing factors are complicated though… even just a drop extra of human might send it back to a human pace… I don’t know, there hasn’t exactly been a lot of research on the subject so most of it’s just theory.”

“Ok… and what about you? How bad is it going to be for you?” Scott asked, struggling to keep his voice level.

“I mean… it won’t be a picnic. I’m not exactly looking forward to knowing what it feels like to be shot and ripped in half but… it’ll be worth it. And anyway, I’ll do it in increments so I won’t have to feel it all at once.”

“I could help, you know, take some of the pain?” Scott offered, feeling suddenly happy to have found a role for himself in the plan –it almost hurt Stiles to have to crush it.

“Doesn’t work like that. He and I will already be tethered. This kind of connection is more complicated than usual… Think of it this way, Derek is an outlet with only so many places to plug something in. The pain-taking thing is minimal, maybe a socket or two at most. The connection I’m going to make, it will take every attachment either of us have.”

“Stiles, are you sure you even know how to do this? I’m not doubting you or anything but… we can’t lose both of you.” Lydia’s voice broke over the end and she looked almost annoyed that her body would dare betray her like that.

“I’m sure. I _know_ I can do this. I don’t know how to explain it, I can just feel it.” Lydia gave a tight nod in his direction, knowing she had given him this same explanation many times and also knowing how hypocritical of her it would sound if she questioned it. Scott trusted Lydia, so he nodded too, though even as he did it his stomach felt like it was turning to stone.

“Great… let’s do this then.” Stiles said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Scott, I need you to stop doing your wolfy mojo so I can make the connection. Lydia, could you hand me a clean towel?”

“Sure, what for?” Lydia asked, already reaching into her dwindling bundle.

“I might need something to bite on… I don’t want to accidentally bite my own tongue off or something.” He didn’t need to add _from the pain_ , it was already understood. To her credit, Lydia refrained from saying anything and obediently passed him one of the smaller towels. As soon as Scott’s veins returned to their normal color, Derek began to groan and his eyes clenched tightly in pain.

“It’s ok, Derek, I got you. I’m gonna make you feel lots better, just hang tight.” And with that, Stiles began to chant in his head, the words seeming far more familiar now than they had only minutes before. As he did it, his hands began to tingle and heat up. Once they were practically burning, he placed one hand over Derek’s heart and the other on the side of his face. At first Derek tried to twitch out of his grasp, but it wasn’t long before he was leaning into it instead. Stiles whispered the final words of the binding spell and felt a sudden jolt go through his body as their connection was sealed and the path for transference was open. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before and even Derek’s eyes jolted open for a moment as he tried to find the source of the strange sensation.

“Here goes nothing.” Stiles whispered, mostly for his own benefit. With that, he focused on connecting with Derek’s injuries, almost as though he were pulling them through the connection and bringing them over to his side. He felt it instantly, his skin slowly tearing itself apart as he urged it on.

“Lydia, towel.” Stiles barely managed to get the words out before a scream started to build and he had to bite his cheek to keep it from coming out. Even as he tasted blood, he could feel a wail beginning to tear from his throat. The sound was cut off as Lydia shoved a rag in, and his screech was momentarily paused as his system struggled to comprehend the flavor of terry cloth. The distraction was short lived and when a scream finally did make its way out it was blood curdling, even with the cloth buffering some of the noise.

Stiles could feel blood beginning to roll down his chest and distantly wondered why he hadn’t thought to take his shirt off when he knew full well that this was going to happen _. What a waste of a perfectly good shirt_ , a quiet voice said somewhere in the back of Stiles’ mind. The pain was starting to become unbearable, but one look at the relief on Derek’s face and Stiles knew he could take more.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed –minutes? Hours? Years? But at whatever point it was, Lydia decided Derek was healed enough for the time being and began to shake Stiles back into focus.

“It’s enough Stiles.” She said, calmly at first. Then louder, “Stiles I’m not kidding, it’s enough. STILES!” She screamed, finally breaking through to the blood soaked man in front of her. “You are killing yourself! I said it’s enough.”

Even as disoriented as he was, Stiles knew it was best to listen to Lydia. He slowly eased off until all that remained was the path for transference between him and Derek with nothing crossing in either direction. The moment the pain stopped elevating, he felt himself collapse backward, only to be caught by someone strong and with incredibly fast reflexes.

“Thanks, Scott.” The words came out slurred and even that much effort exhausted him.

“God damn it, Stiles! You promised you would stop before you were hurt too badly.”

“’m sorry. Won’ ‘appen ‘gain.” Stiles said, feeling as though his tongue was made of lead.

“Let’s just get you patched up.” Lydia said, her kindness betraying her worry far more than her screaming ever could.

“How’s Der’k?” He asked, while simultaneously allowing himself to be manhandled into Scott’s arms so that Lydia could begin dressing his wounds. Well, “allow” is a strong word… he probably wouldn’t have fared very well had he tried to fight them on it.

“He’s great, man. His heartbeat is stronger now; I can hear it without having to strain my ears. You rest up –take a beat.” At the thought of Derek, Stiles felt a sudden surge of energy and struggled to push himself up, only to be forced back down by Scott before he made it more than an inch.

“Forget about me,” Stiles said, forcing his voice to sound stronger than he felt. “Keep putting pressure on the bleeding, or all of that will have been for nothing.”

“Ok, I’ll take care of Derek. Let Lydia do her thing, alright? I promise I will let you get back to your suicide mission just as soon as Lydia is convinced you can take more –that means it would benefit you to cooperate and do everything she says.” Lydia flashed Scott a look of sincere gratitude before saying,

“Lay Stiles on one of the other sleeping bags, I can handle the rest.” Scott did as he was told, only pausing when Stiles gasped at the pain of being moved.

“Sorry, Stiles. I swear I’m doing my best not to move you too much.”

“I know Scott, ignore me, I can take it.” Scott’s eyes glowed red in response, but he said nothing. Once Stiles was placed precisely as Lydia wanted, Scott retreated back to Derek’s side and began a much gorier, higher-stakes version of Twister as he attempted to apply pressure to each of the wounds single-handedly.

“I know Derek can’t get infected, but I have no idea what the rules are for you so… better safe than sorry. This might sting a bit.” Stiles hissed slightly as the peroxide was pressed into one of the quasi-bullet-wounds. Lydia winced sympathetically but did not let up until everything was disinfected to her satisfaction. As she worked, Stiles forced his mind to focus on healing –it wouldn’t be nearly as fast as a werewolf, but it was certainly better than nothing. “It wouldn’t be worth using stitches, they’d just rip open again the second you started pulling from Derek. A few bandages might help keep some blood in, though.”

Stiles watched Lydia work with a mixture of awe and affection. He never ceased to be amazed at how much she knew about everything, and how well she was able to apply what she knew to real life. In some ways, Stiles thought she would be much better suited to being a healer than he was… but magic didn’t work like that, so instead he accepted his job and when he didn’t understand something in his studies he looked to Lydia for advice and clarity.

Stiles also strained his ears in the hope of hearing something from Derek and was occasionally rewarded with the sound of a strained breath or a low moan. He was relieved to hear that even without Scott’s wolf mojo, Derek didn’t sound like he was in too much pain. Despite taking all that he could handle, Stiles had only really acquired a fraction of what Derek had.

“Stiles, he won’t thank you for killing yourself for him.” Lydia whispered as she continued applying bandages.

“I didn’t mean to…” Stiles said earnestly. Lydia pursed her lips, clearly deciding whether or not to believe him.

“If you don’t have control over this… I don’t know if you should keep going.”

“What’s the alternative? Let him die? I can do this -I know I can. I’ll keep it in check next time. I promise, nothing is going to happen to me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I won’t forgive you for breaking it.” She said, her voice heavy with emotion.

“Believe me, I know better than to break a promise to Lydia Martin.” Stiles answered, giving her a small smile that he hoped was reassuring. The moment was broken by a scream from Scott.

“Guys! Something’s wrong…” Stiles felt his heart beginning to pound, but was able to push down his panic as he attempted to stand. He barely made it farther than sitting up when he realized how much pain he was in and went crashing back down to the sleeping bag. Scott was there in less than a second; heaving his friend into his arms as carefully as his urgency would permit. He then proceeded to run back to Derek’s side and sit down, pulling Stiles into a position where he was sitting against him.

Derek was now audibly groaning and Stiles instinctively put his hands out and began muttering the chant that granted healers vision. It essentially worked like a scan that pinpointed where the problem was coming from and an idea for what it was.

“How could I be so stupid?” Stiles said it with such force that he actually felt a twinge of pain in his chest.

“What is it, Stiles? And for the love of god stop moving, your bandages are completely soaked through already.” Lydia had gotten to Derek’s side before either of the other two, but was unable to find what the problem was.

“We’re trying to heal him, but we never took the bullets out… his body is trying to knit itself back together around them and they’re still releasing Wolfsbane.” Lydia swore and internally began berating herself for the mistake. Scott just looked at them awaiting further instruction, knowing that his own panic would help no one and he was far less suited to think of a solution than either of the other two.

“Stiles… you don’t really think he can survive what you’re thinking of, do you?” Lydia asked after seeing a spark of determination in Stiles’ eyes.

“How do you know what I’m thinking of?” Stiles asked defensively.

“There are exactly two options right now: the first, we attempt to get him back to Deaton in time to get the poison out –the odds of which succeeding are slim, especially considering that we’d have to leave you here in order to take him because you are unfit to sit up, let alone make it back to Beacon Hills. Scott is strong, but there is no way he could possibly carry you both and without you to further leech the poison… it’s borderline hopeless.” Stiles nodded as she followed the exact trail of thought he’d just gone down.

“The second one,” Lydia continued, “Is we use our rapidly diminishing medical supplies to get the bullets out and hopefully get his bleeding back under control before he loses too much more and/or the poison reaches his heart.”

“You missed a step.” Stiles said, knowing that Lydia had purposely left out a crucial detail.

“I won’t let you do it –and don’t say you’ll fight me on it, because right now you look like Greenberg could knock you on your ass.”

“You guys know I hate it when you do this, right?” Scott interrupted, looking simultaneously frustrated and concerned.

“Genius over here wants to take more from Derek while we’re in the process of getting the bullets out.”

“That actually makes sense to me… unless you don’t think he can handle it, which I totally understand.” As he said the last part, he gave Stiles a once over and was not reassured by what he saw.

“It’s more than just that, transference works in percentages. It’s not that he takes it little by little, it’s that he slowly increases the percent that he’s taken.”

“Meaning that if you were to slip and do some serious damage, the damage to Stiles would jump with it.” Scott said, finally catching on.

“You won’t slip, Lydia… I know you.”

“Trained doctors -people who do this _professionally_ \- slip all the time. I’m going in blind Stiles –I could hit an artery! What if the bullet goes too close to the heart? Not to mention, who knows how much the pain will increase? What if you go into shock?”

“Stiles… what happens if Derek dies? Like… what exactly is a percentage of the damage caused by death.” Scott’s question stunned Lydia as she realized she had no idea what the answer was, the thought of Derek actually dying was so out of the question that she hadn’t even really considered that it might truly happen.

“I don’t know.” Stiles answered slowly, receiving angry looks from both of his friends. “I’m serious, I told you the information is all flimsy. Some people say that the connection is just severed… and others say that even a fraction of death is still death so… I guess if that’s true then I die too.”

“Well, that settles it, you are shutting down the link right now.” Lydia said, acid dripping into her voice.

“And just let him die?” Stiles asked, his voice sounding more shattered than angry.

“We can’t lose you too,” Scott whispered, voice hoarse and broken. “It’s already too much. Alison was too much, and Boyd was too much, Erica… even Aiden. It’s just… we can’t… _I_ can’t lose any more.” There were tears in Scott’s eyes as he recounted all the losses and tried to imagine what it would be like for Stiles to be on the list as well.

“Death doesn’t happen to you, it happens to the people around you –to the people left standing at your funeral.” Lydia quoted him, barely able to get out the word ‘funeral.’

“I have to do this… with or without your support.” Stiles tried to make it sound strong and brave, but it was hard when he was barely staying conscious given the amount of pain he was in and blood he’d lost.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scott asked, anger coloring his voice.

“The connection’s been made. No matter what you do, you can’t make me break the link. So you either try to save him, hopefully saving both of us –or you let him die, possibly letting me die along with him.”

“Stiles, that’s not fair and you know it!” Lydia shrieked, anger and fear combining in a terrifying pitch.

“It’s like you said, I don’t want to be left standing at his funeral – I can’t be. I’m sorry Scott, I love you –you’re my brother… but he’s my mate.” Everyone went silent for a moment, unsure of what to say next.

“Stiles… you don’t know that for sure.” Scott said gently.

“I do. I’ve known for a while, actually.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Lydia asked, a little bit of her old love-expert tone coloring her voice. “How long have you known?”

“Since the Nogitsune. He… he wouldn’t shut up about it, actually. Whenever I started getting stronger, he would use Derek against me –threaten him and stuff… I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. Part of me was still trying to decide what to do with the information and I guess it just didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. Not after everything we’ve lost, and then with the assassins… It just didn’t seem like a big priority compared to trying to stay alive.”

“You still should’ve told us.” Scott muttered, sounding hurt.

“When? After Allison died? Or when you bit Liam? Or how about when we were being attacked by men without mouths and poisoned during the PSAT? ‘Wow… we really dodged a bullet there… literally. I mean, a guy was shot right in front of me just before he was actually going to shoot me, but now that that’s over with… Derek’s my mate!’ Not exactly an easy intro. I guess none of that matters now anyway, I mean… clearly he might not make it long enough to ever find out. But if there’s even the smallest chance that I can keep him alive long enough for him to know, I have to take it.”

“Fine, then let’s do it.” Lydia said, she had hoped to sound strong, but it came out more like a question.

“Lydia, you can’t be serious!” Scott huffed angrily.

“What choice do we have? Stiles is clearly not severing the line… the longer we wait the more likely it is that Derek dies –the more likely it is that they both die. If the choice is watching them both die while we argue or doing what we can to save them– there is no choice.”

“Stiles, please, don’t do this.” Scott pleaded one last time, his voice breaking and tears falling freely.

“I’m sorry.” Was all Stiles said in answer, not trusting himself to say any more and not sure what to say even if he did.

“What’s the best way to do this? What will give you both the best chance?” Lydia asked, switching into action mode.

“The connection has already been made, but it will still be easier if we’re touching. I obviously won’t be able to sit up for very long, but if I lie beside him it will be good enough. You’ll need to grab a scalpel and pliers from the med kit. There’s also a lighter in there that you’ll need. Scott, could you grab two, not gross-looking, sticks? I think that should about do it.”

Theyeach went their separate ways, meanwhile Stiles attempted to position himself in such a way that he could hold Derek’s hand but also not get in the way of Scott and Lydia, especially should an emergency arise and they need to be able to reach both sides of the older man. When everyone returned with their items, Stiles continued his explanation.

“Don’t start yet, I’m obviously not going to be able to talk you through it once it’s happening so I guess I’ll just tell you everything now.” Lydia got the same look in her eyes as she always had when a teacher was mentioning something that was definitely going to be on the test. Her eyes focused in and you could practically see the gears turning in her head as she committed every syllable to memory.

“You’re going to need to hold the scalpel above the flame for around 15 seconds, stop before it gets red or white. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but it will also hopefully cauterize the bleeding before it gets too bad. I don’t know how bad that’s going to be later when we’re trying to get the poison out, but right now I’m more worried about the blood loss.

“I wish I had more specific instructions for you, but really just stick the blade in until you feel bullet, cut around the bullet and then try to use the blade to push the bullet up into the pliers. If you just go in with the pliers the bleeding with be too bad and you run the risk of pushing the bullet in even farther. Scott, your job is going to be holding Derek down for this. He may look weak, but he’s going to fight this with everything he has. For the record, I will too, but you won’t actually be working on me so you may as well just let me do whatever.

“No matter what happens to me, just keep going.” Scott and Lydia both made faces that clearly said ‘ _no way in hell_ ,’ but Stiles continued, “If Derek gets worse, I will too. There’s nothing you can do to help me if he doesn’t stabilize, we’ll both deteriorate together. He needs to be your first priority, otherwise we’re both dead.” Lydia swallowed loudly but nodded that she understood. “Well, I guess that’s it. Scott, put the stick in Derek’s mouth so he doesn’t break his teeth and toss one this way too.”

Scott did as he was told while refusing to meet his friend’s eye. Even as he handed him the stick, his eyes remained trained on the ground.

“I love you, both of you.” Stiles looked like he wanted to say more, but there was really nothing left to be said.

“Please don’t leave me.” Scott whispered, so quietly Stiles wasn’t even sure he heard correctly. The alpha then took his place at Derek’s head, lightly gripping his shoulders in preparation for what was to come.

“You better not die from this,” Lydia said, her voice full of determination, “I will not be responsible for that… so you better not die. Either of you.” She looked to an unconscious Derek as she said the last part, as though daring his unaware body to defy her wishes.

“Like I said, I know better than to break a promise to Lydia Martin.” Stiles answered, trying to sound confident but missing by a long shot. He then placed his own stick in his mouth and reached out for Derek’s hand. The man was cold to the touch and Stiles briefly wondered if it was even possible to heal from that much blood loss. The answer didn’t really matter, either way he had to try. After one final look at Scott and Derek, he gave Lydia a nod and settled back into position preparing for the worst.

Stiles heard the sound of the lighter igniting and forced himself to take deep breaths, clinging harder to Derek’s hand and wondering if he’d ever get the chance to know what it felt like with Derek clinging back. As soon as he saw Lydia moving to Derek’s side, Stiles began to pull some of the injury from Derek’s side of the connection. He forced himself to maintain as low of a percentage as possible, unsure what the spike would be like when Lydia began.

At first it was like an intense stinging, not unlike holding onto the shocking prank-gum Scott had bought when they were kids. When he was certain that was it, he began to take more and more, until the pain was unlike anything he’d ever felt before and his entire body convulsed to get away from it. He was distantly aware of Derek jerking beside him, barely staying pinned beneath Scott’s restraining arms.

Stiles had learned all sorts of first-aid training from Deaton and knew that inability to get oxygen was one of the easiest ways to go into shock, so he forced himself to breathe despite every instinct tell him to hold his breath until he passed out and got a reprieve from the pain. The breathing didn’t help the pain, but it did help his mind clear slightly. He focused his power until he was able to get an idea for how Derek was doing. Despite the amount that Stiles was taking, Derek’s heartbeat was starting to get fainter and was showing no sign of picking back up.

_I’m not taking enough_ , Stiles thought to himself _, I need to take more._ So despite everything in his body telling him that he had reached the critical point where he could no longer take anymore, he took it. The more he took the more he felt the spark in Derek grow, an energy that seemed to fuel him just by its mere presence. Stiles wanted so badly to be able to converse with him, use the link to give the man love and strength, but his power didn’t work like that, so instead he settled for hoping that Derek could feel his mate’s spark just as clearly as Stiles felt his.

Stiles could feel the ledge approaching, the one where he would have to choose between clinging to the surface and maintaining the amount of injury he was at, or going over and taking most of what was left with him. He had known that this was where he was heading, had known it since he’d seen Derek lying bloody on the ground. Actually, he’d known it since the moment that they first met. One look at the broody, muscular, secretly sensitive, secretly broken man and Stiles knew, _he is going to be the death of me_.

He didn’t even hesitate when he reached the ledge, he threw himself over and took all the injury he could with him. His final thought was of hope that when Derek woke up he would know that for Stiles the choice was simple, Derek’s life for his wasn’t just an acceptable trade –it was a bargain. And no matter how much pain it caused Derek, Stiles knew it was the right thing, because he could bare the pain of every bullet and every hot knife and gash a million times over, but a world without Derek would be unbearable.

***

Stiles awoke to the sound of beeping and the horrible sterilized scent that told him he was in the hospital. He had barely started opening his eyes when he realized that there was a tube down his throat and began choking. Even as his brain filled in that it was there to help him breathe and that panicking was not necessary, his chest and throat continued to try and dislodge the intrusive machinery.

“Easy Stiles, easy. I’m going to take the tube out now. It’s going to feel weird, but just try to breathe through it.” The voice talking seemed very far away, but Stiles did as he was told; unable to stop his body from wheezing even after the tube was gone.

“Here, suck on this.” The voice came again, this time accompanied by the feeling of cold on Stiles’ lips – _ice_ his brain filled in a moment later. His breathing slowly began to regulate itself and finally he was able to open his eyes completely. For a moment the bright lights blinded him, but as he adjusted he was able to make out the owner of the voice –Melissa McCall.

“Don’t try to move or talk just yet, you’re still pretty banged up.” Stiles nodded, unsure of how he had gotten there in the first place given that the last thing he remembered was accepting the loss of his own life for the continuance of Derek’s. At the memory of Derek he began to shoot up out of the bed, only to be stopped by Melissa’s experienced hands and an excruciating pain that tore through his entire body.

“Why is it that neither of you boys ever seem to listen to me? I don’t want to restrain you Stiles, but I will if I have to.

“Derek?” Stiles tried to heave the word out of his abused throat, but it came out more like a squeal. Of course Melissa already knew what he was going to ask, so the actual pronunciation was irrelevant.

“He’s fine –more than fine, he’s completely healed, actually. I would like to point out that I only gave you two rules: don’t move, and don’t talk –and so far you have broken both. However -even though you don’t deserve it- if you promise not to break them again, I will allow you to have visitors.

“I sent your dad home because it didn’t look like you’d be waking up any time soon and I thought that after a week without a shower his stench might kill you before anything else… but there is definitely one perfectly healed werewolf who growls every time you so much as sniff, and I get the feeling that he’s already outside the door. He’s so attuned to the sound of you, I can almost count on him faster than any of the monitors. You can come in, Derek.”

The second she said his name, an exhausted and anxious looking Derek Hale walked into the room, half-looking like he wanted to sprint the rest of the way to the bed, and half-looking like he wanted to run in the opposite direction.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something but instantly closed it when he got an angry look from Melissa. Instead he tried to make some sort of greeting evident in his eyes, but doubted it was an effective method of communication.

“Well, I have rounds to do, the doctor should be in a little bit later, also I should probably go call your dad and tell him you’re awake. Derek, I am trusting you to keep him under control and make sure he doesn’t move or talk –you better not betray that trust. Stiles… I am really glad you’re awake.” Her cheerful façade broke slightly as the emotion penetrated her nurse-personality. A small tear escaped before she could stop it and she hurriedly bent to give Stiles a kiss on the top of his head before walking quickly out of the room.

Derek sat; his movements looked easy and not at all like those of a man who had only recently been on the brink of death. Stiles watched him, waiting for the man to say something rather than just… sit there. Every few seconds Derek’s mouth would open and then shut again almost instantly. Stiles used the silence to try and commit every inch of him to memory, recalling the recent time when he had been positive they would never see each other again –at least, not living.

“Stiles,” Derek began finally, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Stiles had been expecting exactly this reaction. He had known Derek for too long now to think the man would show gratitude, especially when he valued his own life so little and rarely accepted help in the first place. Stiles tried to give a small shrug, but even that movement caused a new wave of pain and he grimaced. Derek was at his side in a second, his arm flooding with black veins before Stiles could even realize what was happening. The pain subsided quickly, but Derek kept his arm there, unwilling to let Stiles go.

“It’s weird, you not talking. I mean… not as weird as the endless hours of you hooked up to tubes and not knowing if you were going to live… but still weird.” Stiles wanted to point out that it was weird hearing Derek’s voice so full of emotion, but even if he could talk he doubted he would mention it.

“I don’t… I don’t really know what to say.” Derek said after a minute of awkward silence. Stiles considered this and then opened his mouth, receiving a glare from Derek, and mouthed the question _“how?”_.

“It’s complicated… Basically, when you went over the edge, you took everything with you. All the poison went to you and most of the injury… my body healed almost instantly. I woke up to see you practically dead beside me…” His voice caught as it was haunted by the memory, but he continued as though he didn’t notice. “Scott and Lydia were freaking out and I didn’t even know what was going on, I just knew I had to save you.

“I could see the way your injuries matched mine, and somewhere in my mind I could still feel you… could still feel the connection you made. I tried to pull the injury back to my side, but you’re the only one who can actually control it. I saw you going over the edge in my mind, and without thinking I grabbed you. I know it doesn’t make sense, but… it just kind of happened.

“It took most of my strength, but I knew I couldn’t let you die, so Scott helped me carry you back down the mountain until we found a car that drove us to the hospital. The whole time I could feel you in my head, slipping farther from my grasp but still holding on somehow. When we got to the hospital they wheeled you away, but I could still feel you… was still holding you. And then, you slipped. The connection broke… I broke… and you died.” This time he did pause, his eyes looking anywhere but at Stiles.

“They brought you back, but the connection was gone… I couldn’t hold onto you anymore. I just had to sit there and wait for them to tell me if you were OK and there was nothing I could do… And then you pulled through. It was touch and go for a while… but eventually they told us they thought you were going to make it.”

Stiles gave him a weak smile in reassurance, wanting to say so much, like how he wasn’t going anywhere and that Derek looked really cute when he was worried, but he knew better than to try.

“Stiles… how could you do that? What about your dad? And Scott and Lydia? What would they do if they lost you?”

A sense of guilt settled over Stiles, but he brushed it off and forced his abused throat to say, “They would be OK eventually.”

“And what about me?” Derek practically screamed, this time not even trying to hide the emotion in his voice, “I would never- could never- be OK if I lost my mate…”

Stiles’ eyes grew wide, “You knew?” He mouthed.

“Of course I knew; I’m a werewolf, Stiles.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The words tore from Stiles throat before he could stop them, and even as the pain brought tears to his eyes, he knew he had to ask.

“I didn’t want to take that choice away from you, you were-are so young… you deserve more than a failed alpha-turned-beta who can’t even take care of himself in a simple fight. More than a guy who is so emotionally broken he can’t even tell you that he loves you until it’s almost too late. You deserve a choice in who you love.”

“There was never any choice, Derek.” And they both knew that he meant it in more ways than one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you want to follow me on Tumblr, you can find me at: keepcalmandraisechaos.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to request fics (aka please request!). Send me an ask or just write me a comment and I'd be more than happy to :)
> 
> For every comment/kudos a unicorn is born!
> 
> -Talli


End file.
